


The City of Lights

by LeSirene



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Ladybug/Chat Noir - Freeform, Miraculous Ladybug Origins, Multi, Other, Paris is a protagonist as well because yes, Slow Burn, alternative universe - 5 years later, canon divergence - new powers, like it respects till mids of season 2, lots of heroic actions, mids of season 2, new superpowers, there's heroic action too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeSirene/pseuds/LeSirene
Summary: Seven years after the disappearance of his wife, Gabriel Agreste decides that he will no longer have any mercy with Paris. He'll destroy the city if that allows him to get a hold on the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir.The superheroes are divided between saving Paris and saving themselves. Now that Hawk Moth threatens to invoke the powers of the Abyss to achieve his goal, Tikki and Plagg are afraid that not only the City of Lights is in danger, but all of mankind.





	1. The Butterfly in its cocoon

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [La ciudad de las luces](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215362) by [LeSirene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeSirene/pseuds/LeSirene). 



When passing through the stained glass, the moonlight was projected in thick, violet-colored beams. The man, sitting with his back to the window, watched without curiosity how that light tinted the skin of his hands and made them look strange, foreign to his body. Watched the impeccable palms, buds that for years had not touched anything other than the paper of his million-dollar contracts or the keyboard of their computer. Or the iron of his scepter.

The man was sitting on the ground. To his right was a jewelry box lined in black velvet. The lid was slightly open and it could be peeked into the compartment, where a delicate pin was resting: a butterfly with a black pearl heart and silver wings. To the left of the man there was a book, also open, and on top of its yellow pages rested a photograph: a blonde woman smiling in the Champs-Élysées.

The man stopped studying his hands to observe the photograph with the same delight and attention. The woman smiled as if she had been told something funny, as if life was fun itself. The woman had blond hair and intense green eyes, and they seemed to be looking at him through time and space. The woman... His woman. His wife.

The man rested the photograph on the book and growled: “Nooroo, come here.”

His voice was rough, it scratched every inch of the circular room and rumbled to the ceiling, filling the shadows that lurked the corners furthest from the window. A small figure emerged from the darkness, buzzing inches from the ground, approaching like an insect nearing a light source even though it could kill him if he touched it. The expression on its face, however, implied that the creature did not have much desire to continue living.

Nooroo had once been a beautiful being, before the Butterfly's Miraculous had been absorbed by the darkness of Gabriel Agreste, but now he was downcast and taciturn, and his face was lined with dark circles that disfigured his delicate features. Nooroo was the kwami of Generosity: he could give help to those in need, give them exactly what they wanted, but since he had been tied to this corrupted Bearer he had been dragged into an abyss where his powers were used for evil.

Gabriel, or Hawk Moth, his powerful counterpart, was dedicated to rise riots in Paris, creating fantastic villains that destroyed the city at will as they searched for what Gabriel wanted the most: the Miraculous of Ladybug and Chat Noir, the protectors of the City of Lights. The legend said that whoever controlled the Miraculous of both heroes would obtain powers beyond their imagination, because they would count on the forces of Creation and Destruction. Gabriel _needed_ to take control of that excessive power.

Even though Nooroo had tried to extract some information from Gabriel, he had still not managed to find out what his plans were, in case he got hold of those magical items. Nooroo could only begin to imagine the chaos and terror that the wounded soul of his Holder planned to sow.

“Yes, Gabriel?”.

The man smoothed his clothes while standing up. His silhouette obstructed the path of purple beams and plunged the kwami into a sepulchral darkness.

"I've been thinking about something I read in the Book," he said, pointing to the book on the floor, "Something that escaped your memory when you told me about the powers of the Butterfly. Do you remember anything about the Cocoons?”.

Nooroo shook, covered in a chill. He should have taken the Book from Gabriel when he began to venture into the dark side, but fidelity to his master had prevented him. Nooroo's main problem was that, unlike Tikki or Plagg, he had a hard time working for the Greater Good, because he would obey his master at all costs, even against his own will.

Tikki and Plagg, the most powerful kwamis of all, had the strength to work for the Greater Good of humanity; they were the only chance Paris had to beat the supervillain Gabriel had decided to become. Nooroo had to find a way to warn his companions, to tell them that his master was about to release the most ancient powers of his Miraculous, those that had not been used in centuries.

As soon as Gabriel invoked the powers of the pre-creation, Hawk Moth would become a threat to all of mankind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm The Siren and this is my fanfic.  
> I am posting this in Spanish as well (archiveofourown.org/works/14215362/chapters/32771205), since it's my mother language. Because of that, I'd like to apologise in advance for any mistakes you may find in my work. I hope to get better and better with practice and time, but I encourage you to point at any mistakes I make in the meantime, so I can correct them.  
> All of that said, I really hope you like this story. It's been in my head for a while now and I'm happy to share it with you guys! Enjoy!
> 
> Next chapter will be up soon! It's already posted in Spanish, just have to translate it :)
> 
> Love, The Siren Xx


	2. The heroes of Paris

For all of humanity, Paris was the mecca of love and fashion, a quasi-perfect city, full of wonders, souls, lights. For Adrien Agreste, Paris was the mecca of modern slavery. Every day he saw promising young people full of potential, running from one place to another to please the veterans of the fashion world, who assigned them impossible tasks and thanked them for their services with more crazy commissions. The world of haute couture, that universe full of divas and geniuses and details, had never been easy to cope with, but since he had officially joined his father's company, Adrien had been able to see first-hand the sacrifices people made just to be a tiny part of that world. He really admired the brave ones who ventured there on their own.

Gabriel Agreste was one of the most prestigious businessmen of the moment. His empire of haute couture and urban fashion competed as equals with the most famous brands out there. And his only son and heir, Adrien, was now the face of the company. Paris was covered in giant prints of the young model, who at the age of twenty was already an active part of the _Gabriel Empire_.

Adrien was very grateful for all of the opportunities his work had offered him: he had gotten to meet all of the celebrities he admired, he had traveled the world between campaigns, runways and photo shoots, and that job had also given him the opportunity to get closer to his father, the last remnant of their little family. But every day when he woke up and every night when he went to sleep Adrien wondered if all that circus was worth it, if it was actually taking him somewhere.

For all of humanity, Paris was the mecca of love and fashion, a quasi-perfect city, full of wonders, souls, lights. For Marinette, Paris was the best city in the world; she was sure that she had been born in the perfect place, at the perfect time. Every day she found something new in the streets of the city that amazed her, whether it was a striking hat, some hideous shoes, a fancy purse or a smiling face. The corner cafes offered a perfect refuge in the cold days of winter, and the parks seemed to call her screaming in the hot summer days, inviting her to lie on the grass and watch the tourists go by.

Living in Paris made Marinette not even think about the time of travel that she had from her hose to the university, because the city was also beautiful from the bus’ window. And talking to other Parisians was so pleasant that she did not mind attending to them when she worked at her parents' bakery.

Marinette was infinitely grateful to be born into a family that encouraged her to follow her dreams, to study fashion design and manufacture her own clothes, to work hard to one day become a world-renowned designer. Every day when she woke up and every night when she went to sleep, she wondered what she had done to be blessed with such wonders.

When Master Fu had pointed at Marinette and Adrien six years ago, Tikki had been very excited, because Marinette had all the qualities of a perfect Holder: she was benevolent, strong, and had an unshakeable sense of duty. But the mere mention of Adrien had ignited all of Plagg's nerves. He had already made the mistake of surrendering to a broken human and he refused to work with that child.

"The boy is upset," Plagg had said. “His father is a maniac and the mother is missing and he is alone all the time and…"

"And he’s perfect, still" Master Fu had argued. “He has an immense heart that is empty. What better way to fill it than with the love of an entire city?”

“Nope. No way. Not for all the cheese in the world. Find yourself another kwami.”

“But, Plagg, Marinette is perfect for me. I'm sure Adrien will be justperfect for you.”

“I doubt it, Tikki. I have already dealt with others like him.” And with a very low voice, barely emitting a whisper, Plagg added: "He's like the Dark King: he has an empty heart; and he’s like Fai Chen: the little heart he has left is broken. I can’t destroy any more people.”

Moved, Tikki had approached her partner and embraced him for a long time, assuring him that this time she would not get away from him, that they would remain in contact. Then, she had whispered some words that would be recorded in Plagg’s conscience for the rest of eternity:

"Humans destroy themselves every day, they don’t need any magic to do that. It’s our job to save them.”

That same day, Master Fu had delivered the Miraculous to their Holders. That same day, Ladybug and Chat Noir, the heroes of Paris, had been born.

For Adrien, putting on the mask of Chat Noir meant taking off the mask of the unpolluted model, of the heir of the Gabriel Empire, and it meant allowing himself to be the person that he kept hidden under his skin. Running on top of Paris' roofs gave him a freedom that he would never had had otherwise, fighting against Hawk Moth’s akumas allowed him to face his inner monsters, blending in with the darkness made him see that darkness was not so terrifying, to disappear under the nose of his controlling father brought him a satisfaction that bordered with carnal excitement. It had been six years since Plagg had come to free him from his bonds and to remove the bandages that had covered his eyes; it had been six years since Adrien had been allowed to be himself, even if it was for short periods of time.

For Marinette, putting on Ladybug's mask meant the same thing that it meant to Bruce Wayne to wear Batman's mask: her superpowers became a tool to take care of the people of her beloved city, to protect her loved ones, to preserve Paris intact. Running through the city in the middle of the night had allowed her to see the cruelest realities of the capital, it had opened her eyes, made her notice the work that needed to be done so that Paris would approach the ideal of perfection that she had drawn on her head. Balancing the superheroism, school, her pastime as a designer and all of the life that remained in the middle had not been easy in the past, and even less so now, but Marinette knew that she could not disappoint the people who trusted Ladybug. She had been juggling it all for over six years, day after day, and until now all of her efforts had paid off; it had been six years now that, at times, Marinette became an improved version of herself, a version capable of going beyond her innate awkwardness and capable of protecting them all, the version of Marinette that Paris needed the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our story begins in the next chapter, I promise. Hope you are enjoying it this far!
> 
> Love, TheSiren Xx


	3. The sun and the midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloé organizes a New Year's Eve party in which she participates little but in which she shines a lot. Alya is eternaly in love with Marinette and Marinette doesn't have an eternal crush on anyone. There is a bit of glitter.

Alya's heels made a strange noise as she walked, as if they had metal soles; it may had been because of the ice that covered the sidewalk. It was a New Year's miracle what allowed Marinette to walk behind her friend with a more or less stable step, without slipping and breaking an ankle, while completing the few meters that she had until the entrance of the _Grand Hotel Paris_.

“Come on, Marinette! It’s late!”

“Sorry. I’m doing my best.” Reaching the building’s foyer safe and sound, Marinette sighed with relief. “I don’t undertand how you managed to convince me to wear _stilettos_. They are giving me vertigo.”

“Don’t exagerante. They go amazing with your outfit.”

The hotel staff had outmatched themselves with the decoration. The foyer, crowded with guests waiting to be guided to the room where the party was to take place, was decorated with great detail: next to the reception desk they had mounted a white pine with red and green decorations, tall as a lamppost and with a radiant star on top. The festive theme was everywhere, dotted here and there with touches of gold and silver. Throughout the room ran a red carpet that led from the main entrance to the marble staircase that guests climbed in small groups.

A man intercepted Alya and Marinette at the door, asked for their names and checked them on the guest list. Then he offered to take their coats to the cloakroom.

Marinette frowned as she ran her hands over the skirt of her dress, smoothing it.

“ _Gosh_. This dress is a disaster.”

“How hyperbolic,” said Alya. “It’s gorgeous, Mari.”

“It’s recycled.” Marinette let go of the skirt and raised her hands to her head to make sure that the sleet that sprinkled Paris had not ruined her updo.“I didn’t have time to make a new one, so I modified the one I wore two years ago.”

“The red one with ribbons? I dont’s believe you. They look completely different.”

Alya’s expression got Marinette to stop worrying about her appearance and to give a little laugh that relaxed her shoulders.

“I’m pretty sure all of that alcohol is what doesn't let you remember my dress.” 

“Ha! You weren’t that much better than me.”

Marinette opened her mouth to reply, but Alya interrupted her: “Before we go upstairs, I need to give you a warning,” she said, crossing her arms. “Don’t you dare leaving me alone to go hang with Chloé. This is _our_ night together.”

“Come on, Alya. Chloé also is my friend.”

Alya shivered. Someone had opened the door behind her while they talked, allowing a blast of icy air to creep in.

“Marinette and Chloé are friends now? What did I miss?”

A couple of arms hugged Alya’s waist, and the face of her boyfriend rested on her shoulder.

“One misses a lot of things when they spend the whole semester in Los Angeles, Nino.”

“It’s your duty to update me on things like this, Al.” Nino let go of Alya and rounded her to give her a kiss. Then he turned to Marinette and hugged her effusively. “What’s that of making friends with the enemy, ‘Nette?”

Marinette wanted to laugh and to tell him how Chloé and her had stopped being sworn enemies, but then the same man who had taken their coats appeared and invited them to follow him to the party room itself.

Adrien blamed Plagg for the ninety per cent of his bad luck, but he was convinced that the rest of it came directly from his father’s will, who used to involve him on the most uncomfortable situations possible.

In normal circumstances he didn’t mind attending to Chloé’s parties, because they where a good opportunity to meet with old friends and to get his mind out of his studies and work, but he didn’t like when he was to attend in representation of his family. And even less when they _nicely_ forced him to be Chloe’s escort, more even when she had decided she was to make a big entrance to her New Year’s Eve party. The worst part was that nobody had explained how that big entrance was going to be, so Adrien had to wait in a lonely hallway, his back against a wall and his eyes on the ceiling, while he wondered if high-risk acrobatics were to be involved. With Chloé, you could never know.

No, he couldn’t be that unfair with her. Chloé had changed a lot on the last years, going from a spoiled child to a just-a-little-too-loud young adult, a lot more kind and patient. Her parent’s divorce and getting into university had forced her to grow up and to become more mature.

Mature enough to understand that the world didn’t revolve around her, but not enough to stop intending it to do so.

Chloé was wearing one of _Gabriel’s_ newest dresses, and how not to, if she had somehow became one of the most required _it girls_ to wear his father’s designs. The golden fabric hugged every curve and every angle of Chloé’s body, infinitely thin but still graceful, and trough the deep cleavage on her back one could peek at her smooth skin, tanned from the Caribbean vacations she had just came back from, which contrasted with her gloves, long to her elbows.

Adrien thought that Chloé could be very, very beautiful to any pair of eyes that landed on her, on her radiant blond hair and her eyes, blue as the midday sky. That was, of corse, until Chloé opened her mouth. The years had not been able to do anything about that shrill voice.

“Adri, mon amour!” Chloé exclaimed, giving a small jump when she identified him at the end of the hallway. “I'm so glad you could come, with this adult life we never get to see each other.” Reaching Adrien, Chloé put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “I miss you every day.”

Adrien hugged her back. It was because of things like that that he remained friends with Chloé. She could be a drama queen and a little too honest, but she really cared about him and never lost the opportunity of letting him know it. She made him feel loved, useful, on that life were he never got to be a lot more other that a robot at his father’s service.

“Have they already explained you how to put on the harness?” Chloé asked. “Safety first.”

Adrien found himself unable to speak, and looked at Chloé’s butler with his eyes open wide. The man offered him a shy smile while shaking his head.

“Off course I'm messing with you, Adri,” Chloé said, moving away from him and making a gesture with her hand. “How would I hang from a harness, with this hairstyle and this dress? How ridiculous!”

Seated at one of the tables at the back of the room, Marinette asked herself for the tenth time in the night who had had the idea of inventing high heels. Of course they looked nice, and they made any outfit a thousand times better, and they made you look thinner and everything. But they were infinitely uncomfortable. She couldn’t understand how Alya could stand them, dance and move between the crowd and spin around Nino as if she was barefoot, when in reality she was wearing a pair of lethal shoes.

Marinette heard that a chair 

Marinette heard a chair slide at her left, and turned to find Nathaniel Kurtzberg taking a seat next to her. She received him with a broad smile.

“How you doing, Mari?” he greeted her.

It had been at lest a year since the last time they had seen each other, their last encounter taking place on Nino’s twentieth birthday party, and Marinette was glad of being able to talk with him. They had always had a lot in common, Nathaniel being an artist and Marinette a designer, but the both of them used to spend their days drawing and designing, and that made contact with society too difficult. Of course they remained in touch, seeing their works and hearing news from the other, whether it was trough the media, whether it was trough friends in common.

“I heard you are traveling to Montreal on an exchange, that’s so nice!” Marinette exclaimed, congratulating Nathaniel. “They say winter in Canada is a dream, with meters and meters of snow, and with hot chocolate and all of that. Winter in Paris must not compare.”

“Yeah, I’m really glad I’m going. It’s a unique experience.”

The lights in the room waned until a gloom was installed. A lot of mouths exclaimed and whispered, wondering what had happened.

A light came on at the end of the staircase that led to the foyer, and on both sides of the banisters confetti cannons exploded. Behind the clouds of powder and glitter, two slender figures appeared, one dressed in gold, scintillating like the sun, and the other dressed in black, serene as a moonless night. Chloé raised a hand to greet her guests like a princess, and linked her free arm with Adrien’s so he couldn’t escape from her great entrance. The room was filled with a song that was slow and ceremonious, full of violins and basses, and Chloé began to move through the crowd.

Marinette turned to Nathaniel to resume their conversation. Chloé was for sure going to make a few rounds trough the room before letting the party resume itself.

“How long are you staying in Montreal?” she asked her friend.

Nathaniel looked at her for a moment, then he looked at the couple that strolled between the tables, and then he came back to Marinette and watched her with studious eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Nathaniel shrugged. “Adrien,” he said, making a gesture to point at the aforementioned. “I thought he was going to monopolize your attention. With your eternal crush on him, I mean.”

At another time on her life, Marinette would have blushed, she would’ve started shaking at the sole mention of that name. But nowadays Adrien’s name brought her a warm feeling, the name of a childhood’s memory.

“We are too old for eternal crushes,” Marinette laughed. “I’ve long forgotten about that Adrien stuff. We’re friends now.”

Once again, Nathaniel looked at the couple of blond, now that they were approaching their side of the room, and said in a low voice: “What a shame. You two would’ve made a nice couple.”

Marinette didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent.

Adrien and she had been a dream of a past life, the dream of a child that had no idea how difficult that could had been. Her responsibilities and school and saving Paris would't had let her waste a single minute on a supermodel boyfriend. She wouldn’t had allowed that herself, seeing how the situation was to become more and more complex.

Chloé and Adrien reached Marinette and Nathaniel.

Escorted by a searchlight that followed their every move, Chloé and Adrien looked like two angels, luminous meccas in the darkness of the room. The both of them used to being the center of attention, Marinette couldn’t help feeling a little intimidated, seeing how they kept their chins high and their shoulders relaxed, even with hundreds of eyes on of them.

Because, truly, even with that over-the-top entrance and with that music that was between a waltz and a wedding march, all the eyes were fixed on Chloé and Adrien. Marinette supposed they had that effect: they claimed everybody’s attention, they turned heads and broke hearts. When both of them smiled at her when passing by, Marinette felt her face go warm. 

“I thought we were too old for crushes”, Nathaniel teased under his breath when the couple was again afar, strolling back to their starting point.

“Ha, very funny.” Marinette hit his shoulder softly, releasing a small laugh.

Her blushing had nothing to do with any crushed. It hadn’t been because of Adrien and it hadn’t been because of Chloé. She had felt overwhelmed, simply, overwhelmed at the thought of those majestic beings taking her into account.

Back at the staircase, Chloé snapped her fingers. The waltz/march died on the spot, and a woman dressed in black gave a microphone to the young lady dressed in gold.

“This is the _Grand Paris Hotel_ New Year’s Eve party. In the name of my family: _bienvenue chez nous!_ ” And with those words, Chloé started the party.

Adrien spent the largest part of the night escorting Chloé while they greeted businessmen and businesswomen and local politicians, them both fulfilling the role of the perfect children of their parent's empires. Chloé was better than Adrien in disguising how little they liked those moments of bureaucracy and aristocracy: greeting the ladies with kisses and the gentlemen with handshakes, enduring the curious looks of the ladies and the bad jokes of the gentlemen, and above all to give a good image, saying _yes_ to everything the businessmen and businesswomen said, and offering a distracted smile to the eloquence of the politicians.

When they finished paying their respects to the last member of that strange modern court, Chloé gave Adrien her blessing to go and find his friends. She was going to join her father, since it was his first New Year since the divorce and didn’t wanted to leave him alone.

“I may look for you at midnight,” Chloé said to Adrien when they were saying goodbye, winking at him. Adrien loosed an honest laugh: he perfectly knew who Chloé was going to look for at midnight, and that wasn’t going to be him.

He passed by lots of familiar faces on his way to the back of the room. And even tough he would had really liked to stop and have a chat with all of them, Adrien did his best to avoid everything other than fast kisses and hugs.

He found Nino and Alya dancing, and he slipped between them so he could jump on his best friend.

“Ouch!” Alya exclaimed, seeing herself pushed to the side. “Adrien, let go of my man! I swear he is eighty per cent straight!”

Nino hugged Adrien back, giving him a few pats on the back, first to greet him, then to ask him to let him breathe. 

“This is not possible, Nino,” Adrien said, setting him free at last. “Six months away and you have us counting the days ‘till you come back. How are we going to make it without you?”

“Don’t get used to being without him, Agreste,” Alya said, taking Nino’s arm. “I’m not letting him go ever again.”

Adrien noticed Nino was about to say something, but then a waitress walked in front of Alya, carrying a tray filled with wine and champagne glasses, and the young journalist squealed. Two seconds later, she had convinced the waitress to leave the tray, and had given her a couple of euros to keep bringing drinks throughout the night.

“I'm not going to bear with the whole Chloé-party-thing without a lot of alcohol in my blood,” she explained, approaching a table to leave the tray at.

In the middle of the emotion of the reencounter, Adrien hadn’t noticed Marinette, seated at the table behind them, at the very back of the room. On Chloé’s tour of  triumph, Adrien had thought to see Nathaniel seated with Marinette, but now he had disappeared, leaving her alone.

“Hello, Marinette,” he greeted her, taking a seat next to her. Alya a Nino joined, sitting in front of them, both with glasses on their hands. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since… since the _Fashion Week_? Since September?”

Marinette nodded, stretching over the table to reach for a glass of champagne. “Yeah, I’ve been out of society, with the studying and everything.”

"Our Mari is becoming a design supergene," Alya said. "She made that dress herself. Doesn't she look beautiful, Nino?”

“Very nice,” Nino agreed.

“What do you mean “very nice”? She’s beautiful! Like a supermodel! Don’t you agree, Adrien?”

Marinette laughed and gestured to Nino. “Keep her away from the booze, it’s gotten ho her hear already.”

Alya shook her head as she placed her empty glass on the table.

“Don’t need to he wasted to tell you are the _gorgeousest_ woman in the world, Mari,” she exclaimed. “Everybody knows that if I played for the other team I’d mark all my goals on your porter.” And winked provocatively at her.

There was a small moment of silence, and then Marinette, Adrien and Nino let out a powerful laugh, in unison. Marinette had to make an effort to contain her tears so she wouldn’t ruin her makeup.

Alya snorted, her cheeks heated. “What’s with you? I’m a hundred per cent serious.”

"I know," Marinette said, recovering from laughter. “But that was the worst _pum_ I heard in my life. And I swear I’ve heard lots of them.”

Adrien brushed his hair back from his face, still unable to stop laughing, and looked at Marinette out of the corner of his eye. “I found it spectacular, “ he said, and raised across the table a hand that Alya hit with enthusiasm. “Then points for creativity and for the doble-meaning.”

“Don’t smile like that, Al,” Nino said. “Adrien makes the worst puns ever, it ain’t no achievement that he compliments yours.”

Adrien made and ofended gesture and raised his glass to his face, making it clear that he was not commenting on that. Alya resumed her task on praising Marinette, and insisted until she managed to make her stand up so everybody could appreciate her dress.

Marinette’s designs had gotten a lot better since they’d left school. The dress was made of red satin and had a very simple shape that gave a tell of her sculpted body, accompanying her muscles harmoniously, rather than accentuating them on an exaggerated way. It had a square-shaped neckline, with very thin straps, and it was long to the floor. It had a cut on the side, as well, that dances with her movements and allowed to peek at her strong legs.

Adrien wondered with true interest which pastimes did Marinette had, to had acquired such physique. Of course she had already been like that at school, muscular and athletic, so maybe it was something genetic. How lucky. He didn't have enough hours on the day to spend more at the gym.

When Marinette took a sean again, Adrien forced himself to stop staring at her, though he hadn’t finished admiring her dress, the way in which the fabric fell, the delicacy of the seams, that must had been finished by hand. When he raised his eyes to Alya and Nino, Adrien discovered they had three empty glasses in front of each of them, and they drank their fourths with no hurry. He turned to Marinette and found her on her second glass of champagne, though she didn’t looked committed on finishing it.

“How’s life?” he asked, seeing she was the one with whom he could establish a coherent, quiet conversation. “The studying and the everything that’s been keeping you out of society.”

Marinette raised her brows, looking at him over the edge of her drink.

“I’m also out of society,” he hurried to add, fearing he may had come out harsh. “I’m working and studying, and all the time they call me for modelling and for interviews. Haven’t seen people in weeks.”

Marinette lowered her glass and smiled at him.

“It’s nothing out of the ordinary, really. Going to class and then studying and designing and sewing. I’m helping at the bakery, as always Normal life.” She shrugged.

Adrien would’ve given anything so that his life would involve working on a bakery every day of the week. To avoid such thought escaping his lips, Adrien raised his drink to his mouth and finished it on a long swallow. “I guess life doesn’t change that much, after all,” he said.

Of course it had been Adrien Agreste’s life the one that didn’t changed. For there was another young man with golden hair and green eyes, one that liked the night and leather pants a little too much, who lived every day as if it was and adventure. In fact, he was very surprised that that same night hadn’t become one of those adventures, seeing how the holidays where a time of found feelings and contradictory emotions. Maybe Howk Moth had taken the night off.

An exclamation was heard on the other side of the table. Alya stood up so fast she flipped her chair backwards, and did’t stop to pick it up before running off.

“What happened?!” Marinette exclaimed.

Adrien took one look at Nino —he was frozen on the spot, eyes fixed on the silhouette that disappeared in the crowd —and knew the answer.

“Go after her,” he said. “I’ll explain to Marinette.” ****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are slowly leaving behind the introduction phase.  
> Hope you liked it!
> 
> Thanks a looooooot for reading, subscribing, and leaving kudos. Means a lot!
> 
> Love, The Siren Xx


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